When You Broke Her Heart
by Mintelle
Summary: After yet another occurrence in a long line of affairs, Hermione has finally had enough of her husband's cheating ways. Packing a bag, she leaves with absolutely no idea where she's going or what she's going to do. But in her sorrow, and self pity, she finds comfort as well as salvation in the most unlikeliest of forms. (One-Shot Dramione)


**When You Broke Her Heart**

One shot Dramione fanfiction

It was raining. She could vaguely hear the soft pitter-patter of water against the windows as she furiously packed away her belongings into a suitcase, ignoring the desperate cries of her husband who was begging her to stop and calm down. But there was no calming her down, not this time. This was the final straw, the last nail in the coffin, the match that set it all ablaze.

"Hermione! Please, you haven't even given me a chance to explain!" His voice was like nails down a chalkboard, such a vile sound that made her spine convulse and her teeth grit together.

"You don't give explanations Ronald, you give excuses! What one is it going to be this time?! You were drunk? She came onto you? You tripped and landed between her legs while her knickers were down? I stayed because I loved you, because you promised me it would never happen again, that you were sorry! I should have known they were just empty words. I want a divorce, my lawyer will be in touch to give you the appropriate papers. Sign them, then stay the hell out of my life." Hermione spat, sealing the suitcase shut before storming out of the home they'd built together. Not once did she look back, or give into his pathetic pleas.

She didn't stop walking for an hour, until she eventually stumbled into a bar and sat herself down at the table in the furthest corner of the room. A bubbly blonde woman came over with a bright smile on her face and a bounce in her step. Clutching a notebook in her left hand and a pen in her right, she stood at the end of the table, the name tag on her top reading: Abbie.

"Evening Miss, what can I get you?" Abbie asked, her pen poised and ready to take down whatever request Hermione asked for. Pausing for a moment, Hermione took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair as if to clear her thoughts before answering the young girl.

"Whisky. Strongest you've got." A soft nod came from Abbie before she jotted down Hermione's order, proceeding to then scamper off to the next table in the blink of an eye. Glancing back at the blonde, Hermione couldn't help but envy her. She couldn't have been any older than eighteen, maybe nineteen at a push. She had her whole life ahead of her, dreams to pursue, hearts to break if she so chose. Life could be really cruel sometimes.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is the great Hermione Granger running away from her problems?" A cold voice chuckled. Dark brown eyes snapped up from the table to meet pale grey ones.

"Fuck off Draco, I'm not in the mood." Hermione snarled, sinking back into her seat while she glared daggers at him. But her unamused expression didn't deter the man, in fact he sat himself down opposite her, a smug grin spreading across his face. What the hell was a pure blood fascist like Draco Malfoy even doing in a Muggle pub anyway?

"What, no sly comeback or smooth insult? You must really be down in the dumps. Let me guess, from the looks of that suitcase you've had an argument with your husband. But not just any argument. That's filled to the brim, suggesting you don't plan on going back anytime soon. He cheated on you didn't he? And it wasn't the first time either. This has been happening for a long time. You've been getting excuse after excuse, and tonight you finally snapped." Draco mused, leaning forward on his elbows while staring directly into her eyes.

"Congratulations Sherlock, you've solved the case!" Hermione exclaimed sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the rather confused look on Draco's face. She wasn't particularly in the mood to explain the reference behind her comment, even if she did, it's not like he'd be interested in understanding Muggle pop culture anyway. Instead, she simply retreated further into her seat.

It pissed her off how obvious her situation was, even to someone who had never been in a serious relationship in his life. Then again, the amount of women Draco Malfoy had probably cheated on, the number of hearts he'd broken, he was no doubt an expert on the topic. His radar for broken women had likely gone nuts when it landed on her.

A minute of silence passed between the pair before Abbie returned with Hermione's whisky. Placing the glass down on the table, she cast a shy smile towards Draco. Of fucking course.

"Can I get you anything, Sir?" She asked, batting her eyelashes a few times. It was easy to notice how she puffed her chest out and sucked her stomach in. And the playful grin spreading across Draco's face wasn't hard to miss either. Scoffing at the pair, Hermione grabbed her glass and took a considerable swig of whiskey. The last thing she wanted was for salt to be rubbed into her wounds. Here she was, heartbroken, and Draco was going to get laid.

"No thanks sweetheart, but I'll keep you posted if that changes." Draco winked, waving goodbye to Abbie as she skipped away. His expression soon changed when Hermione made a rather loud dry heaving noise whilst pretending to shove two fingers down her throat.

"Problem Granger?" He asked, that irritated, self entitled, signature Malfoy tone coming out.

"Besides the fact you're ruining what was meant to be a nice quiet drink on my own, invading my personal space, and making goo goo eyes at a girl almost half your age? Nothing at all. Please, don't let my crumbling marriage stop you from getting your dick wet. In fact, why don't I call her back here so you can shag her right on the table?" She shrugged.

For a brief second, it almost looked as if Draco was taken back by her blunt comment, like he was either shocked she'd spoken to him that way, or he was struggling to believe those words had come out of her mouth. Either way, he composed himself in a matter of mere seconds.

"Someone's jealous."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd rather shove a lightsaber up my own ass." Another confused look from her unexpected companion. He really needed to broaden his means of entertainment. A few more minutes of silence passed them by, during which Hermione downed the rest of her whiskey and ordered another. Draco remained without a drink, despite Abbie asking on more than one occasion if she could do anything for him, and Hermione had a strong feeling she wasn't just limiting her services to bringing him alcohol.

The way he just sat there, watching her drink was starting to piss her off too. Why on earth was Draco Malfoy, a man who was renowned for hating Muggles with a passion, sitting in a pub with her late at night, watching her drink in silence? It was only a matter of time before Hermione finished her second drink and stood up abruptly, reaching down to grab her suitcase.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, not making any moves to stand up himself.

"Away. From you. Him. Everyone." Hermione muttered, heading for the door as tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. She couldn't let him see her, not in this moment of weakness. She'd never hear the end of it, he'd mock her for the rest of her life.

But before she could have opened the door and left, a gentle grasp on her wrist stopped her. Turning back, eyes wide with shock and frustration, Hermione was quite surprised to see Draco Malfoy holding onto her wrist, a rather concerned expression imprinted on his face.

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"What does it matter to you? Last time I checked, you hate my guts."

"I don't hate your guts. Every time you look at me, you don't see a man capable of redemption, when you look at me you only see the life style my Father forced upon me. We're not kids any more Granger. I'm a grown man with his own opinions, and despite what you think, they're not all aimed negatively at you. If you got off your high horse for once and had a different outlook, maybe you'd see how wrong you actually are. You can stay at mine until you're back on your feet. There will be no further discussion, I'm not letting you wonder the streets, soaking wet and cold." Draco stated, his voice cold and authoritative.

Keeping his hand on her wrist, he led her outside before pulling out his wand and disapparating to what she assumed was his home. There wasn't even any time for her to protest, about his demands or the fact he'd openly performed magic in public, muggle public.

Pulling free from him, Hermione was about to shout, scream, or yell to the high heavens about what a backwards twat he was when his hand covered her mouth, predicting the events about to unfold and silencing her before she could have even begun.

"If you want my opinion, he was an idiot for ever cheating on you. You deserve better. He won't think to look for you here, stay for as long or as little as you'd like. I won't bother you. Pick any room you like. Just don't leave until you have somewhere safe to go." And with that he was gone, up the stairs, leaving her standing there with a dumbstruck look plastered on her face.

Taking a few steps towards the staircase, she caught sight of him reaching the top and heading down the corridor before he was gone from her sight once again. Had the young Malfoy really broken free from tradition and taken his own stance in life? It was difficult to imagine, especially given Lucius' hold over his son. Though it did amuse her to think what reaction the older Malfoy would have knowing she was in his home, a mudblood tainting his estate.

Ascending the staircase, Hermione walked down the hallways until she eventually found the bedrooms of the household. It was like trying to navigate a maze, an endless map of turns and corners. Opening the first door on her right, Hermione stepped inside and settled her suitcase at the foot of the bed, taking a moment to look around. It was rather elegant compared to anywhere she'd ever stayed before. Almost as if it had been built for royalty. Then again, in the Wizarding World, the Malfoy family was probably as close to royalty as you'd get.

"Do you need anything? I can arrange for the remainder of your belongings to be collected." Draco's voice offered from the doorway. Looking over at him, Hermione shook her head. Another silence between them followed, but this time he took a few steps towards her until he stopped right in front of her, only a few inches separating her body from his.

"Don't think you can talk your way into my arms." She half whispered, half scoffed. But she could feel the red start travelling to her cheeks, she could see his chest rise and fall with each breath. He took another step closer, if that was even possible, physical contact now unavoidable. Averting her gaze, Hermione tried to focus on something else.

This was wrong, not even an hour prior she'd announced she wanted a divorce, and now she was standing in Draco Malfoy's home, her thoughts betraying her, thinking unspeakable things.

"Who said anything about your arms?" His voice was low and husky, his mouth millimetres away from hers. Then it happened, the final straw, the last nail in the coffin, the match that set it all ablaze. Until now, she'd have every opportunity to go back to Ron, tell him he had one more chance to prove himself and win her back. But as Draco's lips collided with hers, she knew she could never go back to a man who couldn't even kiss her like meant it, to a man who couldn't even pretend to love her.

If one night with Draco was going to make her feel more wanted than five years of marriage had, she'd be insane to go back and sacrifice the rest of her life to such a fate. After feeling his hands grip her hips like she was the only thing holding him to the earth, his frantically beating her pounding against her chest, and knowing that was never going to happen with Ron, she could justify what she was doing. But out of nowhere, Draco's lips and hands left her body.

Flustered and confused, she looked up at him with an expression that could only be translated as 'what the fuck?'. Taking a few moments to compose himself, he retreated out of the room.

"You're hurt, betrayed. I'm not taking advantage of that." He stated.

"What if I want you to?" She called out, causing him to halt dead in his tracks, his hand pressed against the door frame as if to support him, to stop his body from collapsing from the ground. Turning back to look at her, her heart stopped when she saw that playful grin on his mouth.

"Buy me a drink first Granger, then I might let you talk your way into my arms."


End file.
